


The climax of the film

by marginaliana



Series: a ficlet for every GT episode [4]
Category: The Grand Tour (TV) RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Shot, Episode Related, M/M, The Grand Tour: s01 e02, five things, humor AND porn, okay actually seven things, this is pretty filthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 08:24:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11398782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marginaliana/pseuds/marginaliana
Summary: Amman was hot and sandy and had far too many insects in it. But at least Jeremy's trousers had fallen down. (Seven moments in Amman.)





	The climax of the film

**One**

Amman was hot and sandy and had far too many insects in it. But at least Jeremy's trousers had fallen down.

It was hard to see it from the vantage point of the helicopter, a fact which Richard regretted. Still, he could get flashes of it as the rope swung in the wind of the rotors, Jeremy hanging on the end like the pendulum of the world's most artistically-dubious cuckoo clock. His legs were pale in the midday sun, especially in contrast with his midnight blue boxer briefs. 

Beside him, James was also peering out the door of the helicopter. "I don't think he planned this," he commented.

"No, me neither. But it's brilliant. Do you think we can get him to do it again?"

"Might need more takes," James said sagely. "Glare on the lens."

"Ooh, yes," said Richard. "Too much wind, maybe. And there's always the chance of an unexpected camera malfunction."

James nodded approvingly. "Classic."

 

**Two**

"Have you _actually_ scripted a bit where we get to murder you?" said James, reading over the plan for the next segment.

"Yes of course," said Jeremy, as if it were obvious. "You can read it, can't you? You can borrow my glasses if necessary. One of my glasses, I mean. Not the ones I'm using. Don't know why you haven't brought some of your own, actually. Piss poor planning, May." In reality it was the interns who had thought to bring ten pairs of Jeremy's reading glasses, but that sort of fact was more or less irrelevant in Clarkson-world.

"It says, 'Clarkson begs May to kill him.' I am reading that correctly, aren't I? Not hallucinating or anything?" James held out the script for Richard's inspection and he leaned over obediently, scanning the page.

"That's what it says," he confirmed. He tilted his head to look at Jeremy, who was re-buckling his tac vest with unusual attention to detail. "Why did you write that in?"

"I thought you'd enjoy it," Jeremy said, and Richard had to admit he wasn't wrong about that.

"That's surprisingly generous of you," he said.

"I am a kind and giving soul, as well you know," said Jeremy, smiling. 

There was a little bit of a spark in that smile – Richard didn't quite know what to make of it. He raised an eyebrow, but before Jeremy could respond, James said, "We get to murder you _slowly_ ," with dawning delight, and Richard tilted his head back and laughed like a madman.

 

**Three**

Twenty minutes of maniacally opening a wine bottle while Jeremy repeatedly tried – and failed – to eat a quail's egg had put Richard on edge, so he was deeply relieved when they finally got to the portion of the film involving cars at last. Then, of course, they broke for lunch. 

Something of his irritation must have shown on his face, because as they walked under the shade of the tent, James shoved a bottle of water into his hands. A _cold_ bottle of water. "Drink, Hammond," he said. "Or would you prefer a lecture on the merits of hydration?"

Richard twisted off the cap of the bottle and drank hurriedly; once the cool water hit his throat it suddenly seemed like the most delicious thing in the world, and he found himself chugging the whole thing in under sixty seconds.

"See?" James said. Richard chucked the bottle at him, but he managed to duck before it connected.

"Play nice, children," said Jeremy, dropping into a chair at the table. 

Richard slid into the one opposite him. "He started it," he said.

Jeremy wrinkled up his nose in amusement. It was a little bit pink on the end – the gallon of sunscreen he'd applied must have been starting to wear off. He reached for a sandwich; Richard contemplated snatching it out from under his hand just to be extra irritating but it appeared to have pickles on, and he wasn't going to eat that, not even for the opportunity to be a pain in the arse. Instead he cast his eye over the platter, trying to scope out his options. There was one with hummus – no – and one with olives in – _fuck_ no – and something that looked like meat and goat cheese, which was probably as unobjectionable as he was going to get. Beside him, James was going for the hummus. Typical.

"What's next after this, then?" James said. "Car stuff, at last. Then the plane, isn't it?"

Perhaps, Richard reflected, he and James ought to have read the entire script before they'd got here. But it didn't always pay to do that when it was a film Jeremy had written. Sometimes the surprise on the day was the best part.

"Yeah," Jeremy said, nodding. "Getting on to the plane, getting our hostage off the plane." He took a sip of water. Richard couldn't help noticing that he hadn't said who the hostage was. Still, there were more important things to focus on.

"I never believed I'd say this," said Richard, "but am I going to get shot anytime soon? So far it's been you and James and James and James and—" He waved a hand. "— etcetera." 

"Oi!" said James. "I did 'being shot' very nicely, thanks."

Jeremy bit into his sandwich. "You get to be in a knife fight," he said, indistinctly through his mouthful. 

Richard considered. "Yeah, all right, that'll do."

 

**Four**

The car chase sequence was taking, Richard estimated, approximately forever. It was the kind of thing he normally enjoyed, getting into the role of action hero. But the problem was it was boiling in the car, even with the AC on high. And he only got to be a passenger. And Jeremy had decided that it would be hysterical to start reviewing the car while they were in the middle of being shot at. 

And James had decided to join in.

Somewhere along the way, after 'the queen' behind him had said, "Have you come far?" for the five billionth time, Richard snapped.

"Right," he said sharply. "I'm going to hang out the window and shoot back, so if you want to preserve the lives of the crew you have ten minutes to consider the logistics before I open fire."

Jeremy gave him a sideways glance, then lifted the radio from the cup holder and pressed the talk button. "Change of plans, everybody," he said. "Hammond wants to be James Bond's very very short cousin. How can we make it happen?"

 

**Five**

It was a good thing the interns had also brought ten of Jeremy's camouflage outfits, because they filmed his death sequence eight times.

"Is this really necessary?" Richard said, after number six. 

"It's the climax of the film!' Jeremy said, snagging a fresh pair of trousers from the pile.

" _Climax_ , is it?" said Richard dryly. "Christ, Jez, I'm beginning to think you like being shot at."

Jeremy twitched, and the expression on his face was just a little bit complicated before it slid into his usual blithe dismissiveness. "It'll be good telly—" he started, but then then the penny dropped.

"You do like it!" Richard exclaimed.

"I—"

"Oh my god."

" _Hammond_."

"I can't believe you actually—"

"Yes, yes, all right," Jeremy hissed, flapping a hand at him. "Shut up about it, will you? Otherwise May will be psychoanalyzing me for the next six hours."

Richard clamped his mouth shut because that wasn't anyone's idea of a good time (not even James', although it seemed to be some sort of compulsion). 

"Look," Jeremy said, keeping his voice low. "It's adrenaline. Don't try and tell me _you_ don't understand that." He started unbuckling his trousers so that he could put on the fresh pair, and Richard turned away hastily to give him some small amount of privacy. But he couldn't help getting a flash of Jeremy's pale legs.

He blinked and then swallowed, feeling suddenly somehow on the back foot. "Well. I won't, then." 

The rustling noise of Jeremy getting dressed paused, then started up again. "Mmm, I see," he said – and it could have been his portentous wisdom voice, the voice he always used when saying 'I am a genius!' or 'I have solved the problem with an hammer!' But it wasn't like that at all.

"What?" Richard asked.

"Hammond." 

The penny dropped again.

_Oh,_ he thought. _Right. Yes, there is that._ It wasn't entirely a surprise to him that he was attracted to Jeremy. He liked flash and bang and, yes, adrenaline. Danger. A bit of a tussle. Jeremy would certainly give him all of that, and would make him laugh besides. 

It was more of a surprise that Jeremy didn't seem offended by the idea. In fact, there had been a subtle sort of offer there, just in the way he said Richard's name.

"I have to admit," Richard said delicately, "that I didn't expect that sort of thing to be… in your line. Adrenaline is one thing." He couldn't keep the interest out of his voice – to be honest, he didn't even try very hard.

"Well," Jeremy said. "Flexibility is an important quality in the modern world. And… some people are very persuasive."

Richard turned – registering a faint disappointment that Jeremy had managed to get new trousers on – and met his eyes. There was something in that look, something hotter than late afternoon desert sun. " _Really_ ," he said. There was a beat of silence. One of them, Richard realized, was going to have to say something explicit. _Might as well be me,_ he thought. _And if I'm wrong, I'll at least get the adrenaline of wondering how long he'll hold it over me._ "What's your room number?" he said.

Jeremy breathed out, looking intensely relieved. "Four twenty two," he said. "The one on the end."

"I'll be there," Richard said, and then smirked at him. "That wasn't so difficult. What happened to all that love of adrenaline, mmm?"

Jeremy grumbled. "It's easier being shot at."

 

**Six**

They were lucky that the walls of the hotel were thick, plaster over stone, because otherwise the whole place might have been set to shaking when Jeremy slammed him up against the one beside the door and kissed him hard and fast.

Richard had been worked up already, but Jeremy's aggression sent his cock from 'eager' to 'oh fuck yes' in the space of about three seconds. He got his hands on Jeremy's arse and tugged him closer. Jeremy groaned into his mouth, scraping his teeth over Richard's bottom lip. Richard had to lean up into the kiss but he barely noticed the strain, too caught up with the feeling of sweat-soaked body against sweat-soaked body. They both smelled like sunscreen and sand and grenade smoke, and it was undeniably heady. He kissed Jeremy back, hard, and carried on kissing him until they were both breathless with it.

At last Jeremy pulled away; in the faint thick light of the lamp his eyes gleamed hot. "Christ, I want you," he murmured, skimming his hands up under the edge of Richard's shirt and tugging it upwards.

Richard pulled it off over his head and tossed it away without looking. "Yeah?" he said, giving him a cocky grin and leaning back against the wall with a bit of swagger.

"Fuck knows why," said Jeremy, but clearly his heart wasn't in it because his hands were roving over Richard's chest, tweaking a nipple and then sliding his thumbs down over the trail of hair leading into his trousers. "What do you want?" he said huskily. 

"Will you suck me?" Richard said, because yeah, he could picture that, Jeremy on his knees with his mouth parted invitingly for Richard to push right in.

"If you'll trade for it," Jeremy said, but he didn't look like he was planning on arguing about it even if Richard said no.

Still. Richard wasn't going to say no. "Same?" he asked, curling one hand around Jeremy's wrist and tugging his hand down to the bulge of his cock.

" _Yeah_." Jeremy caught his bottom lip between his teeth and gave Richard a slow, unhurried squeeze. "Which first?"

"You do me first," Richard said, moaning a little. "You'll be useless after I do you. Old man."

"Impudent puppy," Jeremy said, but he was laughing as he tugged Richard away from the wall and shoved him down onto the bed. Richard flailed at him briefly, but when Jeremy went down to his knees he just propped himself up on his elbow to watch. Jeremy slid his hands up over Richard's legs, leaned in and ran the side of his face up Richard's thigh. Even through the fabric of his trousers it was achingly sensual. 

"Shit," Richard said. "Fuck, yes. Jez—"

Jeremy shivered at the sound of his name and opened his mouth, pressing it to the growing bulge of Richard's cock as if he could taste it already. " _Fuck_ ," Richard said again. "C'mon, c'mon, let me— let me give it to you—" and Jeremy groaned loudly, unbuckling Richard's belt at last.

Richard lifted his hips to shimmy his trousers and shorts down to his knees, and before he could kick off his shoes and the rest, Jeremy's mouth was on him, sucking hard and fast, down and down. Richard arched his back and bit down on his bottom lip to keep from shouting at the feeling of it, hot and urgent and so unbelievably good. "Yeah," he said, "yeah, yes, just like that. God, your mouth is gorgeous."

When he managed to look down again the sight was just as incredible, Jeremy with his eyes glossy and eager, spit already dripping down his chin as he sucked. "Shit," Richard said; he wasn't going to last long, not like this. Jeremy tongued him good and hard, leaned back a little to take Richard in his hand and rub the tip of his cock over his lips until they were shiny with precome. "Oh fuck," Richard said. "You dirty bastard, Jez, that's not fair."

Jeremy gave a gravelly laugh. "You like that?" he said. "Like the look of you all over my face? Going to make me smell like you instead of gunpowder?"

Richard heard himself whine in the back of his throat. "Yeah, fuck, please, can I? I'll let you— Christ, I don't know."

"Let me fuck you next time," Jeremy suggested. 

"Oh hell yes," Richard said; Jeremy grinned and parted his lips and went down again. Richard's hands clenched in the sheets. He was moving with each suck now, hips stuttering upwards and breath coming hard in his throat, and it only took another minute before he was dangerously close to the edge. "Jez—" he said. "I'm gonna, let me—" Jeremy pulled back with one last hard suck and then held Richard's cock in his fist as he groaned and came in thick pulses of white striping down over Jeremy's mouth.

" _Fuck_ ," Richard said, with feeling. Jeremy laughed and licked at the tip of his cock, lapping up a string of come still hanging between them. Richard groaned as a rumbling aftershock rolled through him. "When you said you liked being shot at," he said, when he could catch his breath a little, "I didn't think that was exactly what you had in mind."

"Oh, I don't know," Jeremy drawled. "It had its charms."

Richard snorted.

"You going to help me out any time soon?" Jeremy said. 

"I suppose I'd better," Richard said. His nerves were still singing from that spectacular orgasm but he tugged his pants and trousers all the way on again and then helped Jeremy climb up to sit on the edge of the bed. Then it was his turn to get on his knees, hands moving deftly to the belt of Jeremy's camo trousers. "I liked it when your trousers fell off this morning," he said meditatively. "James did, too, although I think it wasn't quite for the same reasons."

Jeremy gave a little moaning laugh and kicked off his shoes, letting Richard pull his trousers and shorts away entirely until he was naked from the waist down, still wearing his drab camo shirt. There was something vulnerable about him like this despite the anticipatory grin on his face – it made Richard want to kiss him again, hold Jeremy's face in his hands and kiss him until his mouth was sore from it and he could think of nothing else.

He settled, instead, for getting his hand wrapped around Jeremy's cock, already hard and dripping a little from the tip. Jeremy hissed at the touch and then groaned as Richard gave him a slow, hard stroke. " _Hammond_." 

"Shut up," Richard said fondly. He leaned in, pressing his lips to the base of Jeremy's cock, rubbing the tip of his nose over the curve of his balls until Jeremy was whimpering. Then at last he licked a slow, sloppy path up the underside, teasing the vein there while his hand began to stroke again. Then the tip, sucking it in just a little and working his tongue around it for a long moment. He looked up at Jeremy from under his eyelashes.

"Shit," Jeremy said. "Jesus, you shameless little tease, _come on_ ," but his eyes were dark with desire. His face was still half-covered in come. Richard kept his eyes on him as he tilted his head back and went all the way down, deep as he could get without choking on it. 

"Oh god," Jeremy said, "oh god, oh fuck—" Richard pulled back and went down again; his hand moved to Jeremy's hip and he tugged, encouraging the little stifled movements of his hips until Jeremy was fucking up into his mouth in earnest. Jeremy lifted one hand from the sheet to rest on the back of Richard's head, careful. "All right?" he said, breathless. Richard groaned in answer and then again when Jeremy's hand tightened in his hair, tugging him down onto his cock with each thrust. "Fuck yes," Jeremy said, "let me fuck your mouth, god you're so good. Love the way you look on your knees."

Richard sucked as hard as he could but he was mostly helpless now, caught between Jeremy's hand and his cock. It felt amazing, the release of control, the freefall of giving himself up like this. Dangerous, careless. He thought about next time, about Jeremy fucking him. It would be as good as this – it would be even better.

"You're so gorgeous," Jeremy said. "Your mouth. Fuck, I knew you'd be like this, desperate for it." He was panting now, sweat gathering in the creases of his hips and thighs. Richard could smell smoke and the sharp tang of sex; he could tell from the feeling of Jeremy in his mouth that he was getting close. "Can you go deeper?" Jeremy asked. "Just a little, just—" Richard sucked in a breath and took him as deep as he could, let his eyes flutter shut and swallowing. "Ah," Jeremy said, "ah, ah, _ah_ ," and then he came hard and hot into the back of Richard's throat. 

Richard held it as long as he could and then swallowed again as Jeremy finally pulled away with a groan. He sucked in a breath and then another, leaned down to rest his head on Jeremy's sweaty thigh as he gasped until it felt like his heart was under control again.

"Jesus fuck," Jeremy said. He flopped backwards onto the bed. Richard lifted his head and grinned. 

"Worth the wait?" Richard said.

"I suppose," said Jeremy, but Richard could hear the smile in his voice. Richard climbed up on the bed and flopped down beside him. 

"How long are we here on this shoot anyway?" he asked.

"Another two days, I think," said Jeremy. "Why?"

"Because I really do want you to fuck me," Richard said, "but I'm pretty sure that attempting to buy condoms and lube in Amman is more adrenaline than even _I'm_ up for."

 

**Seven**

In the morning, they gathered in the shade of the tent and discussed what pick-up shots were needed. James' electrocuted hair was on the list, as well as the intensely boring sequence of being lifted to the wing of the plane from the catering lorry.

"Anything else?" said the director.

"Well," Richard said. Everyone turned to look at him. "I think we might have to shoot Jeremy a few more times. Just so we get the most dramatic angle, you know?"

"Have I mentioned that I hate you?" said Jeremy, but his mouth was turned up into that little smile again, and this time Richard knew what it meant.


End file.
